The Snowdrop

by Hans Christian Andersen（1863）

　　IT was winter-time； the air was cold， the wind was sharp， but within the closed doors it was warm and comfortable， and within the closed door lay the flower； it lay in the bulb under the snow-covered earth.

　　One day rain fell. the drops penetrated through the snowy covering down into the earth， and touched the flower-bulb， and talked of the bright world above. Soon the Sunbeam pierced its way through the snow to the root， and within the root there was a stirring.

　　“Come in，” said the flower.

　　“I cannot，” said the Sunbeam. “I am not strong enough to unlock the door！ When the summer comes I shall be strong！”

　　“When will it be summer？” asked the Flower， and she repeated this question each time a new sunbeam made its way down to her. But the summer was yet far distant. The snow still lay upon the ground， and there was a coat of ice on the water every night.

　　“What a long time it takes！ what a long time it takes！” said the Flower. “I feel a stirring and striving within me； I must stretch myself， I must unlock the door， I must get out， and must nod a good morning to the summer， and what a happy time that will be！”

　　And the Flower stirred and stretched itself within the thin rind which the water had softened from without， and the snow and the earth had warmed， and the Sunbeam had knocked at； and it shot forth under the snow with a GREenish-white blossom on a green stalk， with narrow thick leaves， which seemed to want to protect it. The snow was cold， but was pierced by the Sunbeam， therefore it was easy to get through it， and now the Sunbeam came with greater strength than before.

　　“Welcome， welcome！” sang and sounded every ray， and the Flower lifted itself up over the snow into the brighter world. The Sunbeams caressed and kissed it， so that it opened altogether， white as snow， and ornamented with GREen stripes. It bent its head in joy and humility.

　　“Beautiful Flower！” said the Sunbeams， “how graceful and delicate you are！ You are the first， you are the only one！ You are our love！ You are the bell that rings out for summer， beautiful summer， over country and town. All the snow will melt； the cold winds will be driven away； we shall rule； all will become GREen， and then you will have companions， syringas， laburnums， and roses； but you are the first， so graceful， so delicate！”

　　That was a GREat pleasure. It seemed as if the air were singing and sounding， as if rays of light were piercing through the leaves and the stalks of the Flower. There it stood， so delicate and so easily broken， and yet so strong in its young beauty； it stood there in its white dress with the green stripes， and made a summer. But there was a long time yet to the summer-time. Clouds hid the sun， and bleak winds were blowing.

　　“You have come too early，” said Wind and Weather. “We have still the power， and you shall feel it， and give it up to us. You should have stayed quietly at home and not have run out to make a display of yourself. Your time is not come yet！”

　　It was a cutting cold！ the days which now come brought not a single sunbeam. It was weather that might break such a little Flower in two with cold. But the Flower had more strength than she herself knew of. She was strong in joy and in faith in the summer， which would be sure to come， which had been announced by her deep longing and confirmed by the warm sunlight； and so she remained standing in confidence in the snow in her white garment， bending her head even while the snow-flakes fell thick and heavy， and the icy winds swept over her.

　　“You'll break！” they said， “and fade， and fade！ What did you want out here？ Why did you let yourself be tempted？ The Sunbeam only made game of you. Now you have what you deserve， you summer gauk.”

　　“Summer gauk！” she repeated in the cold morning hour.

　　“O summer gauk！” cried some children rejoicingly； “yonder stands one—how beautiful， how beautiful！ the first one， the only one！”

　　these words did the Flower so much good， they seemed to her like warm sunbeams. In her joy the Flower did not even feel when it was broken off. It lay in a child's hand， and was kissed by a child's mouth， and carried into a warm room， and looked on by gentle eyes， and put into water. How strengthening， how invigorating！ The Flower thought she had suddenly come upon the summer.

　　the daughter of the house， a beautiful little girl， was confirmed， and she had a friend who was confirmed， too. He was studying for an examination for an appointment. “He shall be my summer gauk，” she said； and she took the delicate Flower and laid it in a piece of scented paper， on which verses were written， beginning with summer gauk and ending with summer gauk. “My friend， be a winter gauk.” She had twitted him with the summer. Yes， all this was in the verses， and the paper was folded up like a letter， and the Flower was folded in the letter， too. It was dark around her， dark as in those days when she lay hidden in the bulb. The Flower went forth on her journey， and lay in the post-bag， and was pressed and crushed， which was not at all pleasant； but that soon came to an end.

　　the journey was over； the letter was opened， and read by the dear friend. How pleased he was！ He kissed the letter， and it was laid， with its enclosure of verses， in a box， in which there were many beautiful verses， but all of them without flowers； she was the first， the only one， as the Sunbeams had called her； and it was a pleasant thing to think of that.

　　She had time enough， moreover， to think about it； she thought of it while the summer passed away， and the long winter went by， and the summer came again， before she appeared once more. But now the young man was not pleased at all. He took hold of the letter very roughly， and threw the verses away， so that the Flower fell on the ground. Flat and faded she certainly was， but why should she be thrown on the ground？ Still， it was better to be here than in the fire， where the verses and the paper were being burnt to ashes. What had happened？ What happens so often：—the Flower had made a gauk of him， that was a jest； the girl had made a fool of him， that was no jest， she had， during the summer， chosen another friend.

　　Next morning the sun shone in upon the little flattened Snowdrop， that looked as if it had been painted upon the floor. The servant girl， who was sweeping out the room， picked it up， and laid it in one of the books which were upon the table， in the belief that it must have fallen out while the room was being arranged. Again the flower lay among verses—printed verses—and they are better than written ones—at least， more money has been spent upon them.

　　And after this years went by. the book stood upon the book-shelf， and then it was taken up and somebody read out of it. It was a good book； verses and songs by the old Danish poet， Ambrosius Stub， which are well worth reading. The man who was now reading the book turned over a page.

　　“Why， there's a flower！” he said； “a snowdrop， a summer gauk， a poet gauk！ That flower must have been put in there with a meaning！ Poor Ambrosius Stub！ he was a summer fool too， a poet fool； he came too early， before his time， and therefore he had to taste the sharp winds， and wander about as a guest from one noble landed proprietor to another， like a flower in a glass of water， a flower in rhymed verses！ Summer fool， winter fool， fun and folly—but the first， the only， the fresh young Danish poet of those days. Yes， thou shalt remain as a token in the book， thou little snowdrop： thou hast been put there with a meaning.”

　　And so the Snowdrop was put back into the book， and felt equally honored and pleased to know that it was a token in the glorious book of songs， and that he who was the first to sing and to write had been also a snowdrop， had been a summer gauk， and had been looked upon in the winter-time as a fool. The Flower understood this， in her way， as we interpret everything in our way.

　　That is the story of the Snowdrop.

　　那是冬天，空气很寒冷，朔风刺骨，但是屋子里暖和舒服，花儿呆在屋子里，躺在土里和雪下自己的球茎里。

　　有一天下雨了。雨水穿过雪层浸进土里，润湿了花的球茎，通报了地面上已是光明世界。太阳很快便把它纤细有穿透力的光线射过雪层，射到花的球茎，轻轻地抚摸着它。“请进！”花儿说道。“不行！我还没有强壮到能打开你的球茎的程度。夏天我会更强壮一些。”“甚么时候才是夏天？”花儿问道，而且每当阳光射进来的时候它都要重複问这句话。但是距离夏天还远呢，雪还盖在上面，每个长夜里水总是冻结成冰。“怎么这么久啊！怎么这么久啊！”花儿说道。“我觉得浑身酸痛。我得伸伸腰，活动活动自己的肢体，我得绽开来，我要出去，问夏天早安。那将是幸福的时刻！”

　　於是花儿伸伸腰、活动活动肢体，朝薄薄的外壳撞击了几下。这薄壳被外面的水泡软，被雪和泥土温暖，被阳光射透。它在雪下发出芽来，在自己的绿梗上结出了嫩绿的骨朵，还长出又窄又厚的叶子，像一道野生屏围保卫着它。雪很凉，但被阳光照得透亮，这样便很容易被冲破，现在阳光用比以前更大的力量照晒着。“欢迎！欢迎！”每一道阳光都在歌唱；花儿伸出了雪层来到了光明的世界里。阳光鼓着掌，亲吻着它。接着花儿完全绽开了，白得像雪一样，被绿色的条纹装点着。它高兴却又羞赧地垂下了头。“美丽的花儿！”阳光歌唱道。“你是多么新鲜多么娇嫩啊！你是第一朵花！你是唯一的一朵花！你是我们的爱情！你带来了夏天，为乡村和城市带来了可爱的夏天！雪全部要融化了！寒风要被赶走！我们要主宰一切！万物都将披上绿装！於是你便有了朋友，丁香和毒豆，最后是玫瑰。不过你是第一朵花，那么柔嫩，那么纤巧。”

　　真是快乐极了，就像空气在唱歌在奏乐，就像光线射进了它的花瓣儿和梗子。它站在那里，样子很娇嫩，似乎很容易被折断，但又那么健壮，充满了青春美。它站在那里，身上穿着白色的外衣，系着绿色的腰带，讚美着夏天。但是夏天还早着呢，云还遮挡着太阳，刺骨的寒风还在吹袭着它。“你来早了一点儿！”风和雨说道，“我们还有威力呢。你会感觉到，这一切够你受的！你应该呆在屋里，不该跑出来显示自己，还不是时候呢。”

　　天气冷得刺骨。连续几天没有一丝阳光；对於这样一株娇嫩脆弱的小花儿，这天气会把它冻得裂碎。但是它有连自己都想不到的力量，在欢乐和对夏天充满信心中它是坚强的。夏天必定会到来的，它深切地渴望并预感着，温暖的阳光也证实了这点。就这样它穿着白衣服欣慰地站在那里，当雪花纷繁落下、刺骨的寒风吹过它的身体时，它便垂下了自己的头。“你快破裂吧！”它们说道。“你快枯萎、结冰吧！你跑出来干甚么？为甚么你要受诱惑，是太阳光欺骗了你！现在有你的好日子过了，你这谎报夏！”“谎报夏！”它在寒冷的早晨重複说道。“谎报夏！”有几个跑进院子里来的孩子高兴地叫道。“那边有一朵，那么漂亮，那么可爱。第一朵花，唯一的一朵花！”短短的几句话使花儿觉得很舒畅，这些话像和煦的阳光。花儿十分欢快，竟没有感到它已经被摘下。它在孩子们的手中，被孩子亲吻着，被带进了温暖的房间里。它被孩子用温柔的眼睛观望着，被插到水中。它感觉到力量在增长，生命旺盛起来。花儿以为它突然进入夏天了。

　　这家人的女儿——一个可爱的小姑娘，她已长大，参加过向上帝表示坚信的仪式。她有一个可爱的小朋友，也是刚刚参加过坚信仪式的，他读书并要以知识谋生。“他要成为我的谎报夏1！”她说道。於是拿走了这朵柔嫩的花，把它放在一张有芳香气味的纸上。这张纸上写着诗，是关於花儿的诗。它以谎报夏开头，也以谎报夏结尾。“小朋友，做一个在冬日受骗的小朋友吧！”她用夏天和他开玩笑。是的，这些都写在诗里了。於是这张纸成了一封信，花儿躺在里面，它的四周都很黑，很黑，就像躺在花球茎里一样。花儿开始了旅行，被放进邮袋里，被挤被压，一点儿也不舒服，不过也有结束的时候。

　　旅行结束了，信被那位亲爱的朋友拆开来读了。他高兴极了，吻了花儿一下。它被四周的诗围着送进一个抽屉里，里面有好几封漂亮的信，但却没有花儿。它是第一朵花，唯一的一朵花，就像阳光所说的那样；想一想这些它是很高兴的。它可以躺在那里想很长时间，想啊想。夏天过去了，漫长的冬天过去了，又到了夏天，接着又过去了。可是这时那年轻人一点儿也不快乐了，他狠狠地抓起了那些信纸，把诗抛到一边。於是花儿落到了地上，它变得扁瘪、枯萎。但是不应该因此把它抛在地上，不过这总比被火烧掉好一些，火把那些诗和信全都烧掉了。究竟出了甚么事呢？就是经常发生的那些事。花儿骗了他，这全是闹着玩的。但年轻的姑娘骗他，那可不是闹着玩的。在仲夏时节，她又交上了另一个新朋友。

　　清晨，阳光射了进来，照在那朵扁瘪的谎报夏上，这花儿看去就像是画在地上似的。清扫房间的女佣人把它拾了起来，夹在桌上的一本书里。她以为花儿是她在整理房间的时候落下来的。花儿又躺在诗的中间了，而且是印好的诗。这些诗比那些手写的诗要高雅得多，至少，比手写的诗花的钱更多。

　　一年年过去了，那本书立在书架上。后来它被取下来，被打开、读着。那是一本好书：丹麦诗人安勃洛西乌斯·斯图布2的诗歌集，他自然是很值得结识的。读书的人翻着书。“这里有一朵花儿！”他说道，“一朵谎报夏！把它夹在这里一定是有意义的。可怜的安勃洛西乌斯·斯图布！他也是一朵谎报夏，一个诱人受骗的诗人！他当年来到世界上太早了，所以迎接他的是雪霰，是尖锐的寒风。他结交了菲因岛上的富绅，却像玻璃花瓶中的花儿，像诗信中夹着的花儿！是一朵谎报夏，一个冬日谎，是一场玩笑，是傻瓜，然而是第一个，唯一的一个充满了青春活力的丹麦诗人。是啊，就像书中的书籤一样，小谎报夏！你被放在那里是有意义的。”

　　於是谎报夏又被放进书里。得知自己是一本美好的诗歌集的书籤，得知第一个歌唱并写了这个集子的人，自己曾经是在冬季相信夏天到来的谎报夏，它便在书中觉得十分荣幸。花儿现在以自己的方式明白了事理，就像任何事物会以我们自己的方式去明白一样。

　　这就是关於谎报夏的童话！

　　题注19世纪丹麦对安徒生这篇故事所用的“谎报夏”这个词是有争议的。这种植物的学名是Galanthusnivalis，在丹麦文中一般叫“冬日谎”。这种花在拉丁文汉语字典中译为雪莲花，但却又不是我们天山上的那种雪莲花，是欧洲草地上在晚春时节开的一种小白花，由於它是一年中最早绽开的花，所以人们说它是在谎报夏天的到来。这篇童话最初发表在1862年末出版的《1863年丹麦大众日历》中，后来，1866年安徒生将它收在《新童话故事（二系四集）》中。在重新发表时，他对文章的结尾作了很重要的修改，不是以“这就是关於谎报夏的童话”作结束的。读一下原稿的结尾对瞭解这篇童话有很大的作用，现一并译出供读者参考。

　　一天书又被取出来了，读它的是另一个人：“有一朵冬日谎！”他说道。

　　这是花的一个新名字，以前它从没有听到过这个名字，它只知道而且珍视它的老名字。“冬日谎！”屋里其他的人说道，“这是新名，这名字我们在古时丹麦是不知道的。让我们保留正确的，那是谎报夏，那个名字很美，有意义，有所指，此外它是记在莫尔贝克的书（指莫尔贝克编的《丹麦字典》——译注。）之中的。”可是在《植物教材》中写的是冬日谎！“另外那人说道。”你能否认於是他们为名字争执起来，谁都想比别人聪明一些。“植物学上它叫”Galanthusnivalis！“”谎报夏“是它的丹麦名字！我坚持我的祖宗的合理说法。不要拉丁文！拉丁文呆在一边去！”花站在那个把它称为谎报夏的人的一边，因为这样有意义！安徒生的朋友阿道夫·德鲁森曾对安徒生讲过，他为雪莲花的丹麦文名字应该是谎报夏作过斗争。他觉得安徒生应该写一篇《谎报夏》的童话，说这是给这种花正名的最好的办法。德鲁森曾在1862年在《丹麦园艺时报》上撰文为谎报夏正名，因为它说谎、骗人、给人以夏天即将到来的希望；而冬日谎这个名字就其时间来看，是毫无意义的。

　　安徒生在4年后终於写成了这篇童话。

　　1指一个收到一封信，信中夹着一朵谎报夏的人；这样给这个人一种夏日将来临的想法。这原是丹麦的习俗，最初有以这种方式伤人或取笑人的意思。因为人们认为谎报夏有伤人的性质。

　　2丹麦诗人和民歌表演家。他常在菲因岛上的富绅家宴上愚弄取笑别人。